


You Are My Thoughts

by TropicalKazoo



Series: Sadly Undeniable [3]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: AFAB Bloodhound (Apex Legends), And physical sensation, Bottom Bloodhound (Apex Legends), Canon Non-Binary Character, Darkness, Masturbation, Other, Teasing, Vaginal Sex, Yes I gave Revenant a retractable dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29928270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TropicalKazoo/pseuds/TropicalKazoo
Summary: The distant music grows louder for a brief moment when a door slides open and closed, followed by the echo of boots crossing the space between crates and cargo. And even through the pitch black, Revenant knows who it is, for who else would be foolish enough to seek him out so blatantly.“Why have you come here, hunter?” he asks into the void, aware of the other’s nearby presence only from their steps.“Can you see through the myrkur, vel?” Hound’s voice comes from somewhere to his left.“I cannot.”There’s a certain hum, perhaps a bit amused at the fact that this perfect killing machine doesn’t have night vision, and while Bloodhound isn’t exactly in possession of any such power themself, their infrared ability is a rather convenient thing in moments like these- there’s no doubt in Revenant’s mind that he’s being watched like prey.
Relationships: Bloodhound & Revenant (Apex Legends), Bloodhound/Revenant (Apex Legends)
Series: Sadly Undeniable [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191035
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	You Are My Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly they're all I can think about lately, so here have another fic!  
> (Translation notes at the end)

The low hum of the dropship’s engine vibrates through the dark filled cargo hold. Red, blue, green, yellow, white lights blink and flash, scattered across consoles on a distant wall, that in the black void looks like stars twinkling in the heavens they now cross.

But Revenant doesn’t linger on such a frivolous thought and closes his eyes to the world again, for time spent on the superficial beauties of life is time wasted. And for one with seemingly eternity in his hands, this sim still doesn’t believe in “relaxing” or “enjoying the calm” unless followed by a storm.

In the distance, somewhere aboard this ship, he hears music throb and pulsate, no doubt the attention seeking _trickster_ throwing a party for Bloodhound’s victory. Nothing heals a sore bunch of losers like getting intoxicated, Revenant muses as he tries to ignore the celebration that he in part is responsible for, and that in truth angers him all the same.

That Hound and his _personal interest_ in them. Sure it led to victory today, but some day it will be his own downfall, for one reason or another. An easy way to earn someone’s trust, is to make them believe that they have yours, and Revenant finds himself more and more willing to _believe_.

To believe in Bloodhound as they toss spare ammo his way.

As they take a hit to their shield for his sake.

As they give themself to him and his feeble remains of humanity.

And it is rather unfortunate and _distracting_ that he has access to any such memory in vivid detail; every moment observed by his optical sensors stored away in his mind, every sensation evoked as lifelike as it gets for a machine.

Every lewd moan, every _wet, tight muscle_. 

Revenant clenches his fist with a groan as those particular files in his system seem to open up on their own. And as he relives those heated moments from hours ago, imaginated endorphins rush through his tubes and wires, down to flood his gut with a warming sensation that is unfortunately, undeniably _lustful_.

Try as he might to instead focus on the combat, analyse what he did right and what he did wrong, it feels almost out of his control that he rewinds to the two of them in the tunnel between buildings at Repulsor. Oh how Bloodhound _moaned_ and _whined_ as he dug his finger into the bullet wound, as he _thrust_ into their pussy, as they came and clenched onto his cock.

A sound that can at best be compared to an exasperated sigh escapes Revenant as he opens his eyes to the darkness again. It is a burden to feel pain, but even worse is the burden of _pleasure_. He looks down at where he pulls aside the cloth that covers the chassis between his legs, and through a slit there he unsheaths his cock of red silicone flesh.

It feels almost magnetic, the pull of his hand to his steely erection, as he wraps his fingers around himself and strokes it slowly to the recording of the hunter’s voice in his mind. Not only of their pained groans and erotic keening, but the bestial roar when they hunt down enemies, the curt grunts of exertion, their turn of phrase in that ancient Nordic tongue. The grip around his hardened dick becomes almost _punishing_ in a rather brutish attempt to make himself _stop_ having these thoughts- having these _mortal sensations_ , but there’s no helping the heatwave that pulses through his falsified body as his cognition brings back the imagery of their night in the snow.

How _subservient_ Bloodhound quickly became to their own desires at the mere prospect of getting _fucked_ by this syndicate assassin, down on their knees in the cold, ass raised and exposed. Whining as he pushed inside the muscles that swallowed him whole, clinging to every inch like it was all or nothing.

To that picture he cums, quietly with a choked groan of release as he works himself through every spasm and jut of his hips into his closed fist, head thrown back over the supply crates he’s sat upon like a throne.

Vents hiss as they release pent up steam, giving a sensation familiar to muscles relaxing after such strenuous activity, or at least how he remembers it feels. With the dim light his glowing eyes offer, he gazes down at his hand and still erect cock. The absolute only good thing about _situations like this_ as a machine is that there’s never a mess to clean up of cum, and that he never goes flaccid, what with the lack of blood rushing through veins. His only worry is exhausting his batteries or blowing a fuse, both actually quite fatal but there’s a million more bodies to inhabit that it isn’t of any concern.

  
  


The distant music grows louder for a brief moment when a door slides open and closed, followed by the echo of boots crossing the space between crates and cargo. And even through the pitch black, Revenant knows who it is, for who else would be foolish enough to seek him out so blatantly.

“Why have you come here, hunter?” he asks into the void, aware of the other’s nearby presence only from their steps.

“Can you see through the _myrkur, vel_?” Hound’s voice comes from somewhere to his left.

“I cannot.”

There’s a certain hum, perhaps a bit amused at the fact that this perfect killing machine doesn’t have night vision, and while Bloodhound isn’t exactly in possession of any such power themself, their infrared ability is a rather convenient thing in moments like these- there’s _no doubt_ in Revenant’s mind that he’s being watched like prey.

“You are not celebrating today’s victory,” the words are closer now, almost as if he can reach out and _touch_.

“I do not care for such festivities,” he groans out.

“So instead you hide?” right in front of him, the room silent of any and all movement now.

“I am not _hiding, dog,_ ” Revenant _snarls_ at the possible insinuation that he’s a coward. “I prefer the quiet to all that _commotion_ out there.”

“Should I leave you alone to your thoughts, then?”

There it is again, the part of him that he wishes dead, but that this honorable hunter keeps reawakening with nothing more than their presence. An impulsive, poignant notion of the man he once was, every second together alone strengthens that near severed bond.

“ _You are my thoughts_ ,” is what that man says, his voice echoing through the lost and forgotten catacombs of Revenant’s consciousness.

But the answer to the Hound’s perplexing question remains silence, as Revenant finds any possible words… _disconcerting_. 

A “ _no_ ” could so easily be misinterpreted as a needy ask for their attention; a pleasure that he continuously denies himself.

A “ _yes_ ” would grant him the solitude that he’s so fond of, yet he has noticed the _recent changes_ to his system whenever he as much as _thinks_ about the other- thoughts that cause a chainreaction with a rather predictable outcome.

It is all just so… _infuriating_.

“Today, the Allfather honored us with victory. You saved my life, and together we _slátra_ our enemies.”

Through the blinding darkness, a hand reaches out to touch the cloth stretched across Revenant’s leg, and it takes every bit of self-restraint not to grab and break what his trained mind says is danger.

“Our path has led us here, _velafolk_ , I trust that the Gods wills it.”

Another hand on his other leg, both smoothing up along his thighs, gloved thumbs slip over the edge to rub the inner metal of his chassis, urging forth a euphoric little _groan_ that he doesn’t have time to contain.

Their touch moves up past where Revenant’s legs are attached to his pelvic floor, and with no noticeable hesitation, Bloodhound pulls aside the cloth.

“ _Embrace it,_ ” they whisper, close and _lecherous_ , tone dripping with honey-sweet intent.

Revenant isn’t sure of when he closed his eyes, but when he opens them again, there’s Bloodhound, so close that the faint glow of his gaze lights up their face - or rather, their mask.

They stay there, watching as if the machine is capable of facial expressions, of giving away any hints as to what he’s thinking, but instead he simply meets their gaze, steadfast and unmoved when they run a finger across the slit of his sheath.

And without ever blinking, he extends his cock into their loosely held fist. Intoxicating sparks shoot up through each wire in Revenant’s spine, crashing through the circuitry as his lids go heavy at Bloodhound’s slow stroking of his hard, imitated flesh. Their grip tightens as what would be considered Revenant’s breathing grows ragged, gloved fingers barely able to reach around his full girth at the base, their palm rubbing the tip of his head.

“ _Félagi_ , I trust that you are being honorable when you say that you cannot see through the _myrkur_ ,” Bloodhound says as they remove themself far enough from Revenant that his light can no longer reach them.

He doesn’t give chase, no matter how _dearly_ the other’s touch is missed immediately at the lack of touch, the sim manages to retain even some semblance of self-restraint.

Hollow boots _thud_ against the floor, followed by the chime of a zipper, and clothes landing in a pile somewhere.

If Revenant had a heart, it would beat like a war drum; the anticipation of what’s to come overwhelming- the _promise_ so salacious and titillating, as the brief interlude feels like it stretches seconds into minutes into eternity, and this assassin never considered himself impatient. His job on occasions requires him to stake out spots for days with no rest, but even the hope of spilling blood cannot compare to the _desire_ he has for warm, _wet flesh_ , for soft skin and firm muscle. If only he had never gotten the chance to taste the other, what little life he truly has would have been so effortless and routine. He just had to go and ruin it all. _Bloodhound_ just had to accept his weakness and even go as far as to _enable it_.

His reckless and introspective train of thought gets interrupted, when there’s movement again; the Hound climbs atop the sturdy boxes and crates that Revenant has made home with, as they place a knee on either side of his “hips”. Warm, soft, muscular thighs press down atop the _undoubtedly_ far less comfortable structure of this machine’s own legs, and soon after he’s faced once more with his own reflection in the glass of Bloodhound’s mask, hands up to support themself on his broad, stable shoulders.

With tender care that he cannot afford to express too often, Revenant dares touch the scarred, flawed skin of this prideful and noble hunter, every mark he feels beneath his fingertips a trophy well-earned in combat, a thousand stories to tell that stretches across perfected muscle. It is all so… terribly humbling, to get to witness another’s past, to know that they have fought to be here in this moment.

A moment that Bloodhound _wants_ to share with Revenant - a robot that in the past has been the end of them in the arena. A robot that now no longer knows _anything_ about himself, about what _he_ wants.

The further up his tentative touch goes, the breathier Hound’s inhales become; their _needs_ so palpable in every heady exhale, thighs _quivering_ as they keep themself raised on their knees. Revenant’s hands smooth across their well sculpted ass, where he _squeezes_ till he feels flesh bulge out between his fingers, eliciting a moan barely caught behind lips. Higher up still he meets the hemline of a shirt, and finds himself weirdly _disappointed_ , for although he will die before admitting it, he had briefly found _hope_ that he would get to explore Bloodhound’s broad, well-toned body in the full, but _patience_.

One hand slips from his shoulder, down his chest as Bloodhound reaches between them to wrap their fingers around Revenant’s lengthy erection and guide it to their soaked, greedy lips. Slowly they lower themself till the head is just barely in before lifting up again, and even through the mask Revenant can tell how they stare as they tease him, running the tip between their slippery folds as they sigh and pant heavy with wanton.

Every time this hunter nudges less than an inch into their hole before moving off again, Revenant’s grip on their hips _tighten_ with frustration to a bruising point where he stops fighting these teethy _carnal_ urges he’s brimming with, and he _shoves_ Bloodhound down onto his cock in one all too easy move.

Their abrupt, “ _Ah!_ ” echoes through the large cargohold, shaking even Revenant to his well satisfied core, their back arching beautifully as they slowly come down from the _thrilling shock_ of being filled _forcefully_.

Hands still holding a vice grip on Hound’s hips, the assassin rocks them back and forth on his steely prick - euphoric hums follow the slow but _commanding_ rhythm that grinds their clit against the metal _covered_ in their _wet eagerness_.

“ _Ahh, mmh, Gods…_ ” they keen faintly.

Bloodhound is quick to catch on to the pacing set by the other, allowing him to let his hands wander. And while Revenant can’t quite see what’s in front of him, he can feel the lack of armor, finding only a thin, oversized shirt that hangs loosely over what’s proving to be an _impressive, strong, firm_ body as his fingers travel over well toned abs. He expects a “ _stop,_ ” a nerve wrecked “ _no,_ ” or “ _wait,_ ” but as he pauses with his palms heavy against their ribcage, Bloodhound looks at him.

And they with one hand grabs his, giving it a _reassuring squeeze_ \- a simple gesture that sends sickeningly _warm_ _shocks_ from whatever replaced his heart through the rest of him - then guides it further up to where he finds heaving, muscular pecs that rise and fall with every elated breath as the Hound continues grinding themself on him.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find, but an irritatingly overwhelming sense of _reverence_ sure as hell wasn’t it. The amount of _trust_ this foolish hunter has given him so willingly, almost with _pleasure_ , is _angering_. He hasn’t earned this. The first two times they were intimate like so it was him _taking what he craved_ , satiating his own burdensome lust, but this… Bloodhound sought him out, and they offered up so much more than what was necessary.

Through their clothes and beneath his palms he can feel their strutting nipples, that with every motion of his hand there brings out the most wonderfully _pathetic_ sounds. At that, Revenant can’t help but chuckle low like thunder, pinching the sensitive buds and watching intently what little of the other he _can_ see, as they moan and writhe in his grasp.

“Silence, _pup_ ,” he _drawls_ , leaning in closer, “Before anyone hears you and finds us like this. What would people say, I wonder.”

Bloodhound sits up fully, facing the sim with muffled moans, then places both hands back on his shoulders. With a peculiar sense of _determination_ , they rise up on their knees before falling right down again with the full weight of their body, not allowing Revenant any time to stop his own loud _salacious_ groan, as they start bouncing in his lap, their soaking pussy choking on this killer’s full erection.

The boisterous squelching as Hound _fucks_ themself on Revenant’s cock becomes louder than both their laboured, restrained breathing - their dripping lips slapping against his metal frame as the hunter _pounds down_ uncontrollably.

Incapable of just letting go, the sim grabs firmly onto Bloodhound’s ass, squeezing their cheeks and guiding them up _higher_ , till just the blunt head remains inside, before allowing them to _plunge_ back down with vigor. Slowly lifting them up, and down they fall, again and again, gazes locked, unblinking even still as the pacing grows fervent.

It takes everything in his power to not just flip them around, cage in the Gods’ chosen hunter, pin them down on top of a crate and _brutishly fuck_ them till they’re crying out from _rapturous euphoria_. He wants it to hurt, _just a little_ , for his own selfish needs, to know that Bloodhound won’t be able to as much as _sit_ without thinking about _him_.

“ _D-don’t stop, ah-h,_ ” they dare try to talk, voice hoarse and weak from fighting against the need to be heard.

A simple little notion that speaks to Revenant’s curious _wanting_ to test boundaries- to push the limits of how much self-control any mortal being, no matter how impressive, can have over themselves. So he plants his feet firmly on the metal floor, tightens his grip on the Hound’s hips, and _thrusts_ up-

“ _Ah-hn! Mmh,_ ” it spills out all too loud from behind the mask, smoothing into a rather loud _whine_ as the machine matches the rhythm.

Every lascivious sound, every forbidden moan and choked grunt feeds into Revenant’s _intense desires_ for their heated flesh, like ripples disturbing the usually calm waters through his system, spreading the euphoria and teasing at the edge of overflowing; dribbling through the cracks of his grave facade with slight groans.

“ _Gods, yes…_ ” this hunter _croons_ , pitched higher as their body clenches around the _eager silicone_ pounding their pussy. “ _I’m close._ ”

“Then cum for me, _pup_ ,” Revenant _growls_ , only a mere inch between his face and the Hound’s mask, as he _stares_ with heavy lids at their goggles, _waiting_.

Bloodhound’s panting grows louder- _faster_ as they hurriedly approach climax-

It comes as a shock; one hand moving from the support of the sim’s shoulder, to instead hold the side of Revenant’s head _affectionately_ , beneath his hood with a thumb caressing his sharp cheekbones, and pulls him in the last bit of space till their foreheads collide with a metallic _clink_.

And Revenant can’t even justify his own actions to himself anymore, in this moment of unintelligible _bliss_ , as he brings a hand up to hold the other’s head the best he can, reaching all the way back above their neck to _keep them locked tight_ , as if they’d suddenly run away or vanish into thin air.

His eyes fall closed when the other’s body clenches and convulses around his cock buried deep, every tremor of muscle paired _beautifully_ with their finishing moans, as Bloodhound grinds down _hard_ onto Revenant, and it is with that most _fervent_ motion that he’s brought over the edge as well. Every sensor in his silicone dick pulsates with _euphoric heat_ as his mind drowns in overstimulating pleasure, his baritone groans forced out as the hunter _rides him_ through both of their waves.

  
  


Then there’s silence once more; the echoes of the party gone, and even the engine’s humming can’t be noticed over the Hound’s laboured panting and gasping for air.

“ _Gods…_ ” they sigh as they push themself away, creating a chilling distance down both their fronts.

Still with closed eyes and a weirdly weakened structure, Revenant runs a quick diagnostics on his system; being _intimate_ like this several times in one day, on top of winning their match, his battery is reaching critically low levels. And it isn’t till Bloodhound climbs off of him that he opens his eyes to the darkness of the cargo hold.

“We work well together, _velafolk_ ,” they say, followed by a zipper running up.

Unfortunately, they do. It’s been proven a few times by now, and there’s hope yet that this won’t be the last time they’re together like this, as much as Revenant doesn’t wish to allow himself any such idea. 

“I am tired and will retire for the evening.”

There’s a pause, an uncertain one that through the void Revenant can’t quite read the other’s intention, but he wonders if the hunter wishes for _him_ to take the next step. 

“You know where to find me.” 

_An invitation_. Words eventually spoken that reveal far too much of how this Hound feels. Or perhaps it is only Revenant that reads this much into it, and that Bloodhound only seeks to have a physical connection that ends _there_.

He _hates_ what this is doing to him, an anger that brings his oil to a fever pitch, seething and itching. It truly took nothing more than one person’s _touch_ to make him even _consider_ that this state of being he’s suffering might not be the hell he deserves. But for all the furor that this brings him, no matter Bloodhound’s honest intentions with him is, he can’t make himself take it out on them. Not anymore. 

Instead, he rumbles in confirmation, “ _I do._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Translation notes:  
> Myrkur = Darkness  
> Vel = Machine/s  
> Slátra = Slaughter  
> Velafolk = Machine person  
> Félagi = Fellow, friend, companion, partner (non sexual)  
> -  
> Translations taken from the lore book and my own personal experience with Nordic languages  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
